


Basics of Overnight Outdoor Recreation

by ScreamingAtTheSky



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26965459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamingAtTheSky/pseuds/ScreamingAtTheSky
Summary: So, I really needed this one, guys, on a personal level. It definitely has some smut, but a lot of sweetness too, because it's been one of those...lifetimes. And, truthfully, these two deserve it.This one is set right before Troy leaves in season 5. Before he departs on his nautical adventure, he has one request for the study group - to go camping together again one last time. Jeff and Britta are sharing a tent and, shocker, she forgot her sleeping bag. The rest, as they say, is history!I hope you all like this one! I have never been camping and did a lot of research on the kinds of things Jeff would purchase to be the most campery-camper ever - hope I don't offend anyone with inaccuracies!
Relationships: Britta Perry/Jeff Winger
Comments: 25
Kudos: 40





	Basics of Overnight Outdoor Recreation

Jeff Winger hates camping. 

Just saying the word makes his eyes glaze over and his lips curl up in a disgusted sneer. He couldn’t understand for the life of him why, when there are marvels of indoor living like air conditioning and wine fridges and bidets, anyone would _choose_ to spend time outdoors, sleeping in a poorly erected tent, eating food cooked off a pan placed precariously over a dwindling fire, and swatting away pesky, disease-carrying mosquitos all night long. 

But, sadly, someone does, and that’s why he finds himself in the middle of a nearly deserted campground when he’d rather be doing literally anything else on a Saturday night. That someone being Troy Barnes, Jeff’s lovable-if-slow-witted friend. The same friend who happens to be leaving in three days to set sail on a boat so he can find himself and become his own man while traveling the world. It is impossible to say no to Troy, so when he made one final request of the study group before embarking on his journey – that they go on one last camping trip together – everyone begrudgingly agreed. Eventually. They’d complained and protested at first. Shirley Bennett had said, “If the good Lord wanted us to sleep outside, he wouldn’t have invented ceilings;” Annie Edison had huffed at the idea of having to read all those books on proper camping protocols _again_ ; Britta Perry went on for what felt like forever about the atrocities of taking lands from people and animals who rightfully owned them first – Jeff didn’t quite see the connection to camping on that one, but Britta practically majored in making mountains out of molehills. Only Abed didn’t complain outwardly. But, then again, all he’d really been able to mutter since Troy announced he was leaving was, “Cool cool cool” – even though everyone knew nothing about this situation was cool at all. It took Jeff rallying everyone, as usual, to convince them all to go willingly – “Come on, you guys. One night together in the wilderness, working as a team to take on whatever the woods throw at us. I, for one, believe Mother Nature has nothing on _our_ family. For Troy.” That had finally inspired all of them to put their trepidation aside and echo, “For Troy,” and so it was decided. Jeff didn’t mention in his Winger speech that they’d tried camping once before and it hadn’t gone well, mostly because he and Britta argued the whole time, but hey, if she couldn’t pronounce the word “s’mores” properly, _someone_ had to call her out on it, and why dredge up the past when it would only remind everyone how completely awful this outing was going to be?

And it had proved to be pretty awful so far. From their misguided attempts to assemble their tents, to Annie and Shirley squealing every time they thought they heard a bear, to Troy insisting that he, Jeff, and Abed hunt for their dinner “like men,” only to be mocked mercilessly by Britta, the trip had been ridiculous. Even sitting around the campfire trying to tell scary stories was a failure – Annie’s story was too graphic, Britta’s too political, Shirley’s too religious, Troy’s too far-fetched, Abed’s too complicated to follow, and Jeff’s too on the money, since he told the scary story of six friends who camped out in the woods and ended up killing each other out of sheer frustration and boredom. 

Of course, it was then, seeing the crestfallen look on Troy’s face, that Britta stepped in, insisting that they start having “some-more” fun and holding up her poor attempt at the favorite campground snack. Then she gave Jeff that look she always gave him when she wanted him to _do something already damnit_ , and he did the best he could – he suggested that instead of telling scary stories, they share happy memories of their time together at Greendale. That was all they needed – Annie and Shirley gave one loud, “Aaawww” before diving right into a story about the time they navigated the KFC Space Bus, making everyone look up at the sky wistfully and laugh. Britta gave Jeff an appreciative smirk from across the campfire, and he got the same feeling of accomplishment he always did when she was proud of him. 

Because of that, the rest of the night went off without a hitch, until it was time for everyone to turn in. The sleeping arrangements were pretty predictable – six people, three tents. Shirley and Annie were sharing a tent, of course, Shirley completely opposed to the idea of sharing with any of the guys. Troy and Abed were soaking in every last second they had together, so they were sharing a tent, obviously. Which left Jeff and Britta to share his overpriced Coleman Elite Montana tent equipped with collapsible LED lantern. And he was fine with that, clearly. They’d shared way tighter spaces together before, and were a lot more naked at the time, so this wouldn’t be awkward at all. Just because Britta was beautiful in the moonlight – well, any light, really – and they were alone in a secluded tent in the middle of nowhere and they’d shared that moment over the glow of the campfire didn’t mean anything was going to happen between them. 

He has his back to her so she can have some privacy while changing into her pajamas, his easy enough to get into as he simply stripped down to his boxers. He takes his compressible camping pillow out of his pack, fluffs it, and places it at the head of his TETON Sports Mammoth sleeping bag. The night was already crisp, and he could feel more cold air coming in, so he was thankful he’d taken the time to spend the whole day yesterday at Wilderness Exchange Unlimited, getting the absolute best camp gear possible. Thinking that an appropriate amount of time has gone by, he turns back around and sees Britta standing there, looking at his sleeping bag with narrowed eyes. She looks, he doesn’t think it’s an overreach to say, stunning. Her long, blonde curls are fanned out over her shoulders, one strap of her dark gray tank top is askew, and her striped drawstring pajama pants are so big on her petite frame that they’re pooling around her bare feet. Her arms are crossed as she stares at him, the picture of adorable defiance, and every other contradiction she pulls off perfectly horribly.

“Are you kidding me with that sleeping bag, Jeff? This whole tent looks like I ripped out a page from The Great Out-douche magazine.” 

She smirks at her own joke and Jeff can’t help but smirk back.

“Well, I can’t wait to see what poor, tattered excuse for a sleeping bag _you_ brought, Britta.”

“Oh, I...” her voice trails off as she looks around the tent, picking up bags and putting them down, her eyes darting all around and her brow furrowed in indignation.

“Britta?”

She turns toward him in a huff. “What?” she snaps.

He raises his eyebrows as he addresses her. “Did you forget your sleeping bag?”

“No.” She puts her hands on her hips as she stares at him, chin turned up. Suddenly, her shoulders slump in surrender as she squeaks out, “Well, actually, maybe. I guess I put it down to give my cat one last cuddle before I left and didn’t pick it back up.”

She looks so distraught, Jeff can’t help but laugh. “Wow, Britta. Wow. You Britta’d camping!”

“Stop using my name like that!” She points in his face.

“But how could I not? It’s camping. You literally need two things to do it right. A tent and a sleeping bag. And you didn’t have to bring the tent, so you only needed one thing. And you forgot it! Oh, this is too good,” he says the last part to himself, wiping a tear from his eye as he laughs.

“You’re such an ass,” she says, but her words have lost some of their bite as a wind whips through the tent and the severity of her situation becomes clearer.

The two of them stare at each other now, neither wanting to face the harsh reality that she needs a way to keep warm tonight, and there only seems to be one viable option.

“Um,” he says, eloquently. “Did you wanna...” and gestures toward his sleeping bag.

“No,” she quickly replies. “Thanks. I brought a sweatshirt, so, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

She pulls her dark blue Greendale sweatshirt over her head and settles into a spot on the floor of the tent, curling her legs up into her body and wrapping her arms around them. The frown on her face is deep and she can’t meet his eyes, and now he feels terrible, which he hates.

He bends down to climb into his sleeping bag, settling in between its thick layers and turning off the lantern. He’s actually quite pleased with how everything feels – the pillow is surprisingly comfortable, and he’d purchased an extra-long sleeping bag so there is plenty of room for his long legs. And hers, he thinks, as he stares at her from his fetal position. It’s dark in the tent, but he can see her outline, still curled up and _already_ shaking slightly from the cold. He sighs.

“Britta, get in the sleeping bag.”

“I don’t have one. Duh doy. Bad memory, much?”

He takes a moment before responding so that he doesn’t say something snarky. “Britta, get in _my_ sleeping bag.”

“But _you’re_ in your sleeping bag.”

“Nothing gets past you.”

“Jeff, I’m fine.”

“No. You’re not. You’re _freezing_. Get in here,” he insists, pushing the sleeping bag open to make room for her.

“No. Thank you. My body gives off its own natural heat. I’m very in tune with it.”

“Britta. I’m sorry I laughed at you before. That was...wrong. Please just get in here with me. You won’t last the night without a blanket. Even with your body’s...natural heat,” he can barely say that last part with a straight face but tries hard to anyway. Even though he’s certain she can’t actually see him in the darkness, he’s equally certain that, somehow, she’ll just _know_ if he’s mocking her.

She breathes softly for a minute before responding. He can almost feel her debating what to do. Another chilly breeze sweeps through the tent at that moment and so, without saying a word, he hears the rustle of clothing as she gets up and joins him in his sleeping bag, facing him, her body mirroring his fetal position.

She looks at him, a small, grateful smile playing on her face.

“Thanks,” she says, looking into his eyes.

He swallows.

“Don’t mention it.”

“And thanks for your help before, with Troy.”

“Oh, yeah, well, couldn’t have this camping trip be as bad as the last one, could we?”

“No, we couldn’t. Troy deserves better than that.”

“Yeah.”

Jeff takes this opportunity to stare at Britta while she closes her eyes but doesn’t sleep, being able to see her much clearer now as his eyes adjust to the darkness. Her face is as beautiful as it was the first time he saw her at Greendale five years ago. Back then she’d just been this picture of sexuality, this unattainable woman who meant practically nothing to him, and now, she was...everything. His partner in crime, his confidant, his secret sex buddy, _everything_. He’d always have a little crush on her, honestly – how could he not? But usually he’s able to force those feelings down so that they’re just kind of sitting there like the magma inside a dormant volcano just before it becomes hot lava. But tonight, being this close to her in this intimate setting, his feelings are erupting and just like that he has no idea what to do with his hands and his legs feel numb and his heartbeat is so loud he’s afraid she might hear it if he doesn’t fill this deafening silence with the sound of his own voice. 

“How are you feeling about Troy leaving?” Jeff hears himself asking, not quite sure why he’s bringing up another man when he’s lying this close to a woman he’s irrefutably attracted to. A man she used to date, no less. Gross.

She opens her eyes then and really seems to consider his question. As she stares at him, her eyes make him think of two blue stars, like Rigel, the brightest star in the constellation Orion. Huh. What do you know? He _had_ been paying attention in that Astronomy class he took last year.

“Super sad,” she answers, and he can see that reflected on her face. “It’s hard to lose the only person in the group who’s ever _really_ cared about me.”

The words fall out of her mouth in a rush of honesty, and she bites her lower lip a little as if she’s wishing she could pull them back in.

“Nah, that’s not true,” he says, trying to lighten the melancholy mood his question created, “I’m pretty sure you’re Shirley’s favorite.”

Britta scoffs. “Sha, that’s why she refused to share a tent with me. Didn’t want any of my ‘skank’ rubbing off on her.”

“She didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s true.” Jeff decides to match some of her honesty with his own. “Plus, you know, Troy’s not the _only_ one in the group who cares about you.” Her mouth opens almost imperceptibly, unless you’ve memorized her expressions the way Jeff has. This was her incredulous-but-trying-not-to-look-it face. “There’s also, you know, me. _I_ care about you.”

He tries to look at her unblinkingly, so she’ll know he really means it, but the intensity and intimacy of sustained eye contact is still a struggle for him, so his eyes dart to the ground.

“Yeah, ok Winger. You lost all use for me the minute we stopped sleeping together.”

He looks back at her, open-mouthed. “Britta, you can’t _actually_ believe that’s true.”

Her gaze is so fierce, he realizes that she thinks it’s undoubtedly true. This is all his fault – Jeff Winger, too cool to care and too afraid to admit it when he does. He’d really messed up this time. Of all the people he’d met at Greendale, no one had changed his life more than Britta. No one had meant more to him. Ever. Surely, she had to know that was true – just because you never say something out loud doesn’t make it not true. But then again, if no one knows a truth, is it really a truth at all?

Apparently, he’d also been paying attention in Philosophy two years ago.

He leans his head in a little closer to hers, just being able to make out her quick intake of breath. “Britta, I...I care about you. Always. Whether we’re sleeping together or not.”

“Well you don’t act like it.”

There’s no malice in her words, no sting. It’s like she’s passing on an observation. She might as well be commenting on the weather or listing the ingredients of a recipe. His mistreatment of her has become fact and he has to do something about this.

“Britta, I kept a pair of your _underwear_. How could you think I don’t care?”

“You said you keep lots of women’s things.”

“Yeah, like a hair tie or something. Maybe the occasional pair of earrings. Not their _clothing_.”

She scrunches her nose in confusion. “I don’t know, you were pretty clear that that’s what bachelors do. You said you won them in battle. Winning isn’t caring, Jeff.”

“That’s what you _have_ to say when people are staring at you like you’re gross. That’s what you have to say when you don’t...”

He can’t finish that sentence.

Britta, unrelenting as always, presses him. “When you don’t what?”

He sighs, keeping things from her a losing battle, as usual. Not because he doesn’t want to tell her, although he doesn’t. But because he doesn’t have to tell her. Because Britta’s been on to him since the day they met. Because somewhere, deep down, she already knows.

“When you don’t want someone to know how _much_ you care because it scares you.”

“Wow, Winger, that was so...honest.”

“Well, I have my moments.”

“Do you?”

“Sometimes.”

He shrugs, his movement lifting the top of the sleeping bag slightly, and they both laugh.

“I like when you’re honest.”

“I know.”

“So then why don’t you tell the truth more often without me having to pry it out of you?”

“I guess I kind of like when you pry. It means I’m not in this thing alone.”

“This _thing_?”

“Yeah, this. Us.”

“There’s an us now?”

He rolls his eyes at her. “Duh doy. We’re Britta and Jeff.”

The linking of their names, the truth of their connection seems as sure to him as the inevitable turning of night into day or the pull of gravity tethering them to the ground, just one of those things that you know will always be. You don’t need to be reminded of it to know it’s happening. It just _is_.

He realizes that he hasn’t touched her through their entire conversation. The two of them are just lying here in the dark, staring into each other’s eyes, but it’s like there’s an entire world between them, keeping them apart, and he doesn’t want to be distanced from her anymore. He shifts his body forward just the slightest bit and remains quiet to gauge her reaction. Almost immediately, she moves forward too, no more than an inch, but that’s all he needs to know that she’s feeling the same way he is. Empowered by this knowledge, he reaches out his hand and runs his index finger along the side of her face, across her jawline, and down her delicate neck, stopping at the spot just above her right breast. She closes her eyes as he does this and lets out a breath that he didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Jeff,” she whispers his name and there’s so many questions behind it, but he doesn’t want to answer them with words. He wants to show her, he wants to feel her surrounding him, body to body and soul to soul.

She presses her hand against his chest and leans forward, her mouth opening slightly, and that is all Jeff needs to come alive. He presses his lips to hers, the sparks between them reigniting until it feels like they’re both on fire. Their bodies are fused so tightly together, not even the breeze can fit between them. He grabs her hair and pulls it a little while sucking on her neck and Britta wraps her leg around his waist and slides against him, sending basically all the blood in his body to his groin. She climbs on top of him and straddles his waist, pinning his hands down on either side of his head. She bites at his bottom lip playfully and shoots him a lascivious smile. All the memories they made while they were together come flooding back until he can’t remember why they ever stopped doing this. Surely when two bodies fit together like theirs, it’s got to be a crime to keep them apart. At that moment, Britta presses her chest against his and starts grinding herself against his body, the air around them thickening with heat and need.

“Jesus, Britta,” he says on an exhale, so enraptured with her. It is impossible to quantify how much he’s missed her like this. When they’re together, her passionate spirit comes out, but it’s not directed at the world’s injustices for once, it’s directed at bringing him pleasure while also demanding her own.

She lets out what can only be described as a growl and he can feel how wet she is through her flimsy pajama pants on his thigh. He shifts their positions so that he’s on top, careful to prop himself up so as not to hurt her and removes her sweatshirt and tank top in one move. She’s not wearing a bra, and his mouth finds exactly where it wants to be – sucking on the sensitive skin of her breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth in turn, biting and sucking until she’s practically mewling, her fingers running frantically through his hair. Her breath comes out quick and hot, and she whispers his name into the air on every other exhale. She’s still grinding herself against his thigh, needing even more stimulation than he’s giving her.

Jeff begins kissing down her stomach, and Britta arches her back like a goddess. He stops at her belly button, swirling his tongue around it and licking inside of it, showing her what he plans to do to other parts of her body soon enough. Her legs fall open and she lets out a long groan and he has trouble concentrating on what he’s doing, she’s just so sexy.

He moves as slowly as he can, wanting to drag all of this out and enjoy watching her for as long as possible, nudging his mouth against her sex over her pants and she thrusts up into him, glaring at him for riling her up like this. He unties the drawstring of her pajama pants dangerously slowly and slips his index fingers in on either side of her hips and begins to pull them down. She’s not wearing any underwear at all, and the naughtiness of it stops him in his tracks.

“Hey, Halley’s Comet, you wanna get a move on down there?”

He stares up at her from his perch between her legs. “What?”

She props herself up on her elbows and tilts her head at him. “Halley’s Comet. It takes, like, 75 years to come around again.” 

He nods his head at her, impressed. “That’s actually an accurate fact.”

“Yeah. We took that Astronomy class together, remember?”

He smiles at her, relishing the fact that she is the star of all his best memories. “Yes, I do.”

“Great. So...” she gestures toward her lower body, and Jeff can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says and, just for her interruption, rips her pants off the rest of the way and throws them across the tent. She lays back down on his pillow, awaiting the pleasure to come.

Jeff takes a second to refamiliarize himself with her body, kissing up her inner thighs and tickling the sensitive skin behind her knees, making her giggle. Finally, when she’s almost keening with desire, he takes one finger and swirls it around her lips, in awe of how ready she is for him. He massages her clit with his thumb while entering her slowly with one finger. He can feel her clench around him almost immediately, and he can’t help but wonder whether or not Troy had this effect on her when they were together.

“Oh, God, Jeff,” she moans, and he forces thoughts of anyone else being with her out of his mind, ensuring that his focus be on her and her alone. Her breathing gets heavier and her moans louder as he continues working her with his fingers. He moves his body upward so it’s flush with hers, watching her face as he moves his fingers inside of her, increasing the pressure until her head flies back and he kisses the translucent skin on her neck. He adds a second finger and pushes deep inside of her, causing her to cry out.

“Britta, shhh,” he laughs, “you’ll wake everyone up and they’ll know what we’re doing.”

She looks too lost to care, so as he prepares to bring her over the edge, he covers her mouth with his, absorbing all the sounds she makes as he twists his fingers upward inside her, finding her spot, and getting her to come apart all around him. He keeps massaging her as she comes down from her orgasm, trying to draw it out as much as he can for her, but the erection he has from watching her pleasure is becoming painful at it presses against her hip.

“Ok, that was pretty good,” she says, catching her breath as he lies beside her, running his fingers through her hair. She turns to face him and draws him in for a lingering kiss, once again pressing his body to the ground and climbing atop him.

“Pretty good? Britta let’s be honest with ourselves. I was amazing and we both know it.”

“If you do say so yourself,” she says, staring at him through narrowed eyes.

“And what would you say?” he asks, resting his hands behind his head.

“I’d say,” she says, kissing each of his biceps before slinking down his body like one of her cats, “what goes around comes around.”

He closes his eyes and leans his head back as he feels her slip his boxers down his legs and off. Before he can process anything, he feels her full lips wrap around his cock. She swirls her tongue around the tip of him, wraps one hand around the shaft, and pumps him slightly as she licks and sucks. She hums and moans while she takes him all the way in, her head bobbing up and down and her ass in the air like the star she is. He leans up on his elbows to watch her, and she meets his eyes, winking at him one time and that nearly sends him over the edge. She’s working him so deftly that he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to last, and this feels so good, but he wants to finish inside of her, so he reaches down and cups her face with his hands.

“Problem?” she says, and he can feel her vibrate against him and it almost drives him to come right then.

“Britta, come here – I want to finish together.”

“Since when are you such a giver?” she asks while crawling up his body until her opening is aligned with the tip of his cock.

“You bring it out in me, I guess,” he says, kissing her chin.

“Britta for the win,” she says, smiling at him and gently moving her body down onto his, both of them stilling at how amazing it feels when he enters her. He can feel himself fill her, and she tightens her walls around him, raking her fingers along his chest as she begins to ride him. He’ll have scratch marks in the morning from her, and he has never been more ok with anything in his entire life. He grips her hips hard and moves his body with hers, pushing upward and watching her breasts bounce with every thrust. She throws her head back and moans again, softer this time, out of respect for the others, because that’s who she is, this wonderful, strong, opinionated, crazy woman, and he is suddenly overwhelmed by his need for her. He sits up, so that their chests are pressed together, stopping his movements for a second. She pouts at him, until he takes her legs and wraps them behind his back, bringing their bodies closer than they’d ever been, and resumes moving inside her. Her mouth opens in silent appreciation and she kisses every part of his face that she can – his eyes, his nose, his forehead, his lips, one kiss for every thrust, until she loses her ability to do anything with her mouth but breathe and moan. When he feels her clench around his cock, he takes her mouth in a kiss again, and she comes, long and hard. He releases then too, one soft grunt escaping his lips, and unable to stop the smile that spreads across his face.

They rest their foreheads against each other, not ready to separate their bodies just yet, and this is exactly what Jeff had been hoping for, to feel this close to her, literally intertwined in both mind and body. All too soon, she gives him one last, quick kiss and climbs off of him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting her head on his chest as they lie back down together. He traces circles on her back and arm, while they relax in comfortable silence.

“I wasn’t expecting that tonight,” she whispers, breaking their silence.

“Yeah, right. I bet you left your sleeping bag behind on purpose.”

She smacks his chest lightly and laughs. “Get over yourself, Winger.”

“It’s easier to get over myself than to get over you.”

His words sit there between them, as heavy as the sleeping bag draped over their bodies. She looks up at him with wide eyes, her guarded expression giving way to one of hope and possibility.

“Do you _want_ to get over me?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip lightly.

“Do you want to get over _me_?”

“I asked you first.”

Jeff sighs. He doesn’t want to have to open himself up like that, but he’s been in this position with her before, often after sex, and he’s never had the courage to just lay it on the line for her. He wants to change that this time.

“No. I don’t want to get over you, Britta. But it doesn’t matter if I want to or not. Because I can’t. I don’t know why, but that’s just how it is. You’re a part of me, for better or worse, forever.”  


She stares at him for a beat. He wishes he could read her mind – he knows she can be cynical and guarded, but there were moments tonight, during sex and before, when what they had was transcendent – there’s no way she didn’t feel it, too. Right?

“Forever’s a long time, Winger.”

“Yeah.”

“You won’t get tired of me?”

“Eh. It’s been five years. I haven’t gotten tired of you yet.” He smiles at her. “What about you? Think you’ll get tired of me?”

“Oh, _definitely_. But, you know, that’s what love is, right?”

“Getting tired of each other?”

“Yeah. And choosing to stay anyway. Because together is better than apart.”

He nods. “Together is better than apart.”

They smile at each other then, neither quite ready to admit out loud that they basically just declared their love for one another, but, like the inevitable turning of night into day and the pull of gravity tethering them to the ground, they both know it’s there. They stay wrapped in each other’s arms as they fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Jeff Winger loves camping.


End file.
